But finally, one of them gets married and goes away on her honeymoon. A few days later, the other lady receives a postcard from her friend. All it says is: “Let the cat out!”
Little Ernie is walking downstairs behind his grandfather one morning. “Granddad,” he says, “are you still growing?”
“Why do you ask, kid?” inquires his granddad.
“Well,” replies Ernie, “the top of your head is coming through your hair!”
Doctor Floss, the dentist, has his office on the fiftieth floor of a huge office building.
One morning he and his assistant, Miss Pringle, are busy pulling a man’s tooth, when a sharp cry from outside causes them to look up. They rush to the window just in time to see a good friend of theirs go hurtling past.
A couple of moments later, someone bursts into the office, shouting, “Hey, did you hear about Rufus Ramsbottom? He just jumped off the roof and fell sixty stories. He is lying down there in the street now, and he looks pretty bad!”
“That’s funny,” says Floss, “we saw him go by just a minute ago and he looked fine.”
At a special dinner and dance at the Shalom Retirement Home in Miami, Rubin, aged eighty-two and Florrie, aged seventy-six, meet and fall in love.
They discuss their situation and decide that they can live better on two social security checks, so they get married.
On their wedding night, they go to bed and consummate their marriage in three hours of energetic lovemaking.
As Florrie lays back in bed afterwards, she notices that Rubin is not moving. On closer inspection, she realizes that he is dead.
At the funeral, Florrie is standing with her friend, Ruthie, who has come along to comfort her.
“I am so sorry,” says Ruthie. “What happened?”
“Nothing much,” sniffs Florrie, “he came and he went.”
Now, it is enough laughter for the moment.
The first drum and you start throwing out as much rubbish as possible, with gibberish in words, in gestures. It is a cleansing, a preparation for silence.